


Every Good Boy Deserves Favor

by DangerousCommieSubversive, fatallywhimsical



Category: Marvel (Comics)
Genre: Begging, Daddy Kink, Dom/sub, Drunk Sex, M/M, Manipulation, Mildly Dubious Consent, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Seduction, Spanking, well mostly without plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-14
Updated: 2013-07-14
Packaged: 2017-12-20 03:32:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/882448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DangerousCommieSubversive/pseuds/DangerousCommieSubversive, https://archiveofourown.org/users/fatallywhimsical/pseuds/fatallywhimsical
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loki's attempt to recruit Daken for a new scheme is somewhat derailed when he finds Daken busy getting drunk in a nightclub. When he takes Wolverine's wayward son home and tries to sober him up, however, the night derails again--in a rather more...interesting direction.</p><p>(which is to say sex)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Every Good Boy Deserves Favor

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fatallywhimsical](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fatallywhimsical/gifts).



> Warning: this story contains sex that could be construed as dubious consent, as one of the participants--while consenting and enthusiastic--also starts out the evening drunk. It is also _all about_ the daddy kink. If either of these things are likely to make you upset or uncomfortable, please move on.
> 
> If not...have fun!
> 
> Co-written with, and also a gift for, fatallywhimsical. ^_^

“This is not at all what I had expected. I'm rather disappointed.”

Daken looked up through bleary eyes and frowned vaguely. “Do I know you?”

“I am known to many.”

He was tall, pale, he had chin-length brown hair and piercing green eyes and he was dressed _all wrong_ for this kind of club—a three-piece suit in dark green, a matched necktie, a soft shirt of grey silk, a greatcoat, a scarf. Like someone going to the opera.

And he hadn't answered Daken's question.

“Ok. Trying again.” Daken pulled himself up straighter in the booth, pointedly ignoring the three-quarters empty bottle of bourbon—his second bottle, to be precise. “Do you _want_ something?”

The man looked him over skeptically and said, “I have a proposition for you, boy.”

“All the world is welcome to my table.” Daken gestured expansively to the other side of the booth.

“Of course they are.” The man sat and gestured to a passer-by—not even a waitress, simply someone moving past the table—for a clean glass, which was immediately given him. “Provided they do not mind the possibility of being eaten.”

They sat in what passed for silence in the club for a moment, and then Daken filled the empty glass, passed it back, and said, “You're Loki, aren't you.”

“I am.” Loki smiled thinly at him and sipped his bourbon. “And you are Daken.”

“I'd heard you were dead. Or...changed, or something.”

“You of all people should know not to trust reports of a death that you did not witness with your own eyes. And I have gone through many changes in my life.”

Daken smirked, feeling hazy, and took a swig of bourbon that turned into draining the rest of the bottle. “So you had a _proposition._ ”

Loki raised an eyebrow. “I think, boy, that you're _far_ too drunk to discuss it now. I won't ask _why_ you're drinking so much, because I'm sure you have your reasons but I really don't care.” A pause. “You are clearly unfit to take yourself home. Where are you staying?”

“Anywhere. Nowhere. Everywhere. I just got into town.” The empty bottle offended him suddenly; he shoved it away and tried to smirk again. “Take me, I'm yours.”

The raised eyebrow rose a bit higher, and then Loki stood abruptly and reached across the table—not for Daken, but for Daken's _jacket,_ which he draped around the other man's shoulders. “I think you've had quite enough. Up. Tomorrow, when you're sober, we'll discuss my propositon; _tonight_ you need to sleep it off.”

“You can't just decide that, you don't own me...”

“ _Up,_ boy. Don't make me ask again.”

\-- 

They left the club having not paid for anything, the club employees who tried to stop them left blushing and stammering in their wake, and by the time they reached the four-star hotel in which Loki was staying, Daken had absorbed enough bourbon to be significantly plastered. He swayed in the elevator on the way up, talking not entirely coherently about drugs and plans fallen through and how Loki smelled suprisingly nice for a god, and barely made it through the door of the suite before rushing to the bathroom. Loki smoothed back his hair with cool fingers as he retched over the toilet, massaging the back of his neck below his collar and murmuring in a suprisingly soothing tone. The murmuring was also not in English; had Daken been sober enough to glance over at the mirror he might have noticed the spark of green light that left Loki's hand, but as it was all he knew of it was that once Loki started speaking he felt much less nauseous.

Once he could be sick no more Loki pulled him to his feet. “Teeth, boy. Go.”

He brushed his teeth without argument, and then, when Loki beckoned, stumbled into the bedroom after him.

Loki looked him over critically and said, “That is a very good suit, boy.”

“I got it from...from a model. Rag and Bone original.”

“Well, then. You can't be allowed to sleep in it; take it off, boy, and I will find you something else to wear.”

_“Hai, otousan.”_

Loki, who had already begun to turn away, paused and then turned back, looking puzzled. “I'm sorry?”

Daken swayed on his feet slightly, though Loki knew for a _fact_ that he was no longer _nearly_ as drunk as he appeared to be. He smelled of bourbon and desire, and as Loki watched him his back went stiff for a moment, and then the corner of his mouth curled into a smile that would have been more seductive if it was not slightly crooked. He reached forward, took hold of Loki's tie, pulled him in close, and said, softly, “Yes, _daddy._ ”

Loki looked down at the other man and raised an eyebrow. This wasn't a direction his sex life had ever taken before; most of his previous partners had been either aggressive to the point of absurdity or so uncertain of their own place with him that they were afraid to ask for anything, which was as it should be. And Sigyn had engaged in sex, in most things really, with a patient indulgence that had maddened him. Daken's attempt at being seductive—uncharacteristically awkward, from what Loki had heard—was quite charming.

And the prospect _did_ tempt. _Both_ prospects, in fact, of having Daken _and_ indulging him in this. Daken was attractive, he was intelligent, he had a unique skillset that could be of use—that Loki in fact _wished_ to make use of—and it certainly couldn't _hurt._ In fact, it could quite possibly _help._

Yes, certainly. Yes, of course.

He tipped the other man's face up, gripping his chin lightly, and murmured, “You're _such_ a good boy. You _will_ be a good boy for me, won't you?” He paused—for dramatic effect or out of genuine hesitation, he wasn't even sure himself. “For daddy.”

Daken shuddered, and his pupils dilated vastly, but he said nothing.

“Promise me you'll behave.”

A suspended moment, Daken's fingers tightening on his tie, and then coyly lowered eyelashes and a murmured, “I promise.”

“Good boy.” Another shudder from Daken. “Now. Give me a kiss.”

Given the difference in their heights, Daken actually had to lift himself onto his toes to obey, since Loki very deliberately made no move to bend down to him. Their mouths met in a surge of hunger, Loki's hand moving from Daken's chin to tangle in the hair at the back of his head, and it was long and _not_ sweet at all.

They broke apart, and Loki raised an eyebrow. “ _A_ kiss, I said. That went rather overboard.”

Daken smirked lazily and tugged on his necktie, trying to pull him down again. “You didn't specify.”

“Hm. Is this disobedience?” He pulled a bit on the hair twisted around his fingers. “Because boys who are _bad_ get punished.”

And _there,_ again, another shudder but smaller, and an almost shy, “Have I been bad?”

“Hm. I should say you've been very bad _indeed._ ” Loki moved backwards, until his knees hit the bed and he sat, and pulled Daken after him. “Come _here,_ boy.”

Daken did in fact try to shift away from him, but not with any real effort, a game of resistance as he was pulled over Loki's lap, his wrists pinned together on the bed above his head. When the first strike landed on his backside he made a small noise, a little slurred _oh._

“If you are to be here then you must be good, boy. And being good means that you must do as I tell you, or you'll be punished.”

The reply was a faintly petulant and still slightly drunken, “You can't make me.”

He struck again. “I'll do as I please with you, boy.”

Another strike, and another, not as hard as Loki _could_ hit but certainly enough to sting, and Daken writhed and gasped and said, finally, “I'm sorry, I'm sorry, please, daddy, I'll be good.”

Loki's hand stilled. He could feel Daken hard against his thigh, and he slid his hand down between the other man's legs and said, “Are you _enjoying_ your punishment, boy?”

Daken looked back and up at him over his shoulder, eyes heavy-lidded. “Yes, daddy.”

“Then you're not being a good boy at all, are you? Punishments aren't to be _enjoyed,_ they're to _punish._ ” Loki pulled him up, getting Daken situated on his lap, and leaned in to kiss the side of his neck, biting rather hard. “You are very _determined_ to be bad,” he said against the other man's skin.

“I'm—” Daken cut off with a gasp as Loki's hand slid down his chest and stomach to undo his pants. “I'm not, I'm good, I'm a good boy.”

“Are you, then.”

“Yes, _daddy, yes,_ I'm a good boy...”

Loki began to undo his own pants. “Then be a good boy and get on your knees for your daddy.”

Daken made a deep-throated purring noise and slid down between Loki's legs. He kept his eyes defiantly lifted when Loki looked down at him, mouth sinking down on his cock with agonizing slowness. His fingers dug into the sides of Loki's thighs.

Loki stroked his hair encouragingly. “Yes, just like that. _That's_ a good boy.”

He was no amateur at this, thought the more gauche part of Loki's mind, and as his head bobbed Loki kept up a steady stream of talk, running his fingers through hair surprisingly soft and fine. “Yes, good boy, you're doing so well, you're _so_ good for your daddy...”

And then...one of Daken's hands left his thighs.

He looked down, and saw that Daken had reached between his own legs and was stroking himself slowly and deliberately. The corners of his mouth curled down. It only took a moment for him to tighten his grip and drag Daken's head back, the other man's lips coming off his cock with a faint wet sound. “Did I give you permission for that, boy?”

Daken stared up at him, eyes glittering, and said nothing.

“Speak when you're spoken to. Did you have permission to touch yourself?”

Daken took a moment to answer, but when Loki's grip on his hair tightened he muttered, “No, daddy.”

“I didn't hear you, boy. Speak up.”

“No, daddy, I didn't have permission to touch myself.”

“No, you didn't. Still determined to be bad.” Loki let go of his hair and pulled away from him completely. “Then I'm not going to touch you until you're ready to behave. Get up and take off your clothes.”

“All of them?” Daken roses to his feet with a deliberately infuriating slowness.

“All of them.”

Loki rose to his feet and circled Daken with a predatory look on his face as the other man undressed, watching as he slid off his vest, let his suspenders drop to his sides, unbuttoned his shirt and folded it with great delicacy on a chair. He had, Loki realized, not taken his shoes off until this moment; they went under the chair on which the shirt lay. A little more golden skin was revealed at every moment, left shoulder swirled with tattoos, and Loki found that he certainly did not _regret_ the direction this evening had taken. There was, he realized, still one logistical problem to deal with, and that was taken care of with a snap of his fingers.

When Daken was completely naked, Loki handed him the small bottle he'd summoned and said, “Now, boy. Lie down on the bed and make yourself ready.”

“Make myself ready for what?”

“Daddy's going to fuck you.” There was a growl in his voice now; he was getting impatient himself. “But not until you prove that you can be good. Now lie on your back and show me how well-behaved you are.”

He watched as Daken lay back on the bed, legs spread, pleasingly on display. The smaller man's eyes fluttered shut as he pressed a slick finger inside himself.

His other hand drifted toward his cock, and Loki said, sharply, _“No.”_

That hand fell back to the bed and tightened on the blanket.

“Open your eyes, boy. Open your eyes and look at me.” Daken opened his eyes _very_ slowly, gaze fixing on Loki as Loki finally shrugged off his suit jacket and vest and began undoing his cufflinks.

A second finger. “Am I being good now, daddy?”

“Yes,” Loki breathed. His shirt came open button by button, slowly—this of all times it would be inappropriate to rush. “Yes, you're being very good. Getting yourself ready for daddy to fuck you.” He stripped with some deliberation as Daken prepared himself, considering the options that presented themselves.

“Are you going to fuck me, daddy?” Daken's voice was surprisingly breathy, his eyes dark, and there was a faint hint of _impatience_ in his tone.

Loki bent over him, hair falling down to brush Daken's forehead, and brushed the tips of his fingers lightly down Daken's chest, pausing to flick one brown nipple. “Perhaps, boy. Would you like me to?”

“Yes...” in a long and drawn-out hiss.

“Then what do we say, boy?”

Daken's hand went very still, and he bit his lip and said nothing, a spark of fury flickering behind his eyes.

“You may stop, boy.” Loki grabbed Daken's wrist and pulled his hand up. “You've been _very_ good. But daddy isn't going to fuck you until you ask him properly.”

There was, for a moment, _red—_ Daken had bitten his own lip so hard that he was _bleeding—_ but then the cut healed and at another brush of Loki's fingers he shivered and breathed out a desperate, _“Please.”_

“Please what?”

“Please, _daddy, fuck_ me, I've been so _good, please,_ I've been _such_ a good boy.”

Smiling, Loki grabbed the backs of Daken's knees and pushed his legs up and apart, folding the other man almost in half. He pressed in, centimeter by centimeter, agonizingly slow, and by the time he was halfway in Daken was writhing.

“Please, please, daddy, I've been good, I've been _so_ good, please, I'm a good boy, please _fuck me—_ ”

Loki thrust in the rest of the way, _hard,_ grip shifting from Daken's knees to his ankles, holding them to the bed on either side of the other man's head while he said, breathless himself, “Yes, you've been good, you've been very good, daddy's going to take care of you, you're _such_ a good boy.” He bit the side of Daken's neck, licking sweat from his skin. “ _Very_ good. You can touch yourself, boy, you have permission, daddy wants to see you _come._ ”

Daken gasped and worked a hand in between them, stroking himself as Loki thrust. “Please, daddy...”

“Good boy.” Loki let his eyes shut for a moment, and opened them to focus on Daken's free arm. The pink scar on the inside of it caught his gaze, and he seized Daken's wrist, pulling his arm up and running his tongue along the mark. “Who did this to you, boy?” He set his teeth against the wrist and nipped gently. “I'll find them and destroy them, daddy's going to take care of you, he'll make it all better.”

Daken's back arched at the impress of teeth. “Can I come, daddy...”

“Ask nicely, boy.”

“Can I come _please,_ daddy, _please_ let me—”

“ _Yes,_ you may—”

Daken's back arched like a bow as he came, head thrown back, eyes shut as he gasped and shook, and as he squeezed around Loki's cock Loki spilled inside him, murmuring, “Good boy, you're _such_ a good boy.”

They were both of them sleepy and relaxed as Loki snapped his fingers and summoned a damp washcloth from the bathroom, washing Daken first and then himself. When they were clean he tossed the washcloth into the corner of the room.

“Come here, boy.”

Daken shifted away from him, suddenly looking irritated. “Why? You got what you wanted. And don't call me _boy._ ”

“Don't be foolish. To deny one's own needs...one's own _wants_...only leads to ill health.” Loki pulled the blankets up over them and pulled Daken in close, his back to Loki's chest, running his fingers through the other man's hair. “You're a very good boy. And I require sleep.”

He was asleep within moments.

Daken gritted his teeth and tried to pull away, found that even in sleep Loki's grip was like iron, and slowly settled back, his cheek pillowed against one of Loki's arms. As he drifted off himself, though, he said, faintly, “I'm a good boy.”

And fell asleep with a smile on his face.

\--

Daken woke in the morning in an unfamiliar hotel room. This was hardly an unusual occurrence; it wasn't as if he ever paid for accomodations himself—or at least, not in any monetary fashion. He felt slightly hungover, but not _nearly_ as much as he'd been expecting to, having gone out the previous night with plans to get mind-erasingly drunk. As it was, he couldn't _quite_ remember what he'd done, but his soreness and immense feeling of relaxation suggested that it had been...enjoyable.

He stretched, sniffing deeply, and as he caught a whiff of whoever he'd shared the bed with, the last night's events came flooding back.

His eyes went wide.

Loki _knew._

He was fully dressed and almost at the door of the suite when a sharp voice behind him said, _“Boy.”_

He froze and turned around _very_ slowly, furiously ignoring his own impulse to _obey_ that word, that tone, deliberately _not_ feeling the simmering heat in his stomach.

Loki nodded to him from a chair at the suite's small dining table, lowering his newspaper. “Sit down.”

Daken went slowly, warily, and took a seat across from his erstwhile host. “What do you want?”

“First, I think, breakfast. Room service arrived while you slept.” Loki poured him a cup of coffee, smiling in a deceptively pleasant fashion. “Did you sleep well?”

“Tolerably.”

“As did I. Drink your coffee, boy.” He refilled his own cup as well. “And then I wanted to discuss a business proposition with you.”

Daken took a slow sip. “And what if I don't want to listen?”

“I'm confident that the plan I have in mind will pique your interest, boy.” Loki reached across the table, looking almost bored, and twisted his hand in Daken's collar, dragging him out of his chair and close enough so that Loki could whisper in his ear. “I think we would be _very_ good together.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed the story, please let us know!


End file.
